


The Tournament

by ClockworkDragon



Category: One Piece
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1933131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkDragon/pseuds/ClockworkDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanji can't complain about his life. He has a good, steady job, a couple close friends and enough money for a roof above his head and food in his stomach. Still, he can't help but feel that something is missing, each day feeling more pointless than the next. One night, however, Sanji meets a strange swordsman who is in town for a tournament. Something inside Sanji changes from that encounter and he is determined to find out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tournament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I finally did it. I posted my first fanfic chapter. Ever. I hope it is to your liking! Also, I don't have a beta so excuse any random errors. Enjoy!!

"Don't come back until you take out all that trash you ungrateful Eggplant!"

"Fine, see how far you get without me in that kitchen!" Sanji kicked the heavy door shut before Zeff could retaliate. "Shitty old man," he mumbled.

Pulling out a cigarette, Sanji lit it and took a deep, calming drag. He knew he shouldn't get mad, he argued with Zeff daily, both of them too stubborn for their own good. Still, Sanji wished for some credit every once in a while. Everyone sought his cooking; it was the best in the city, after Zeff's that is. Why then, was it so hard for the damn geezer to give him a compliment every once in a while?

He sighed. Putting out his cigarette underfoot, he hoisted the trash into the bin and walked into the night. Like hell he was going back inside tonight. Loathe though he was to admit it, the shitty old man could handle the kitchen without him. Besides, his pride wouldn't let him crawl back and apologize.

It was mid autumn and so, the night was chilly. Sanji's coat was at the restaurant so he couldn't help the shivers that shook his body. Moodily, he wandered the bustling streets, not really wanting to go anywhere. It was 9:30 on a Friday night and people were beginning to crowd the bars to get their first drink of the weekend. For a moment, Sanji thought about joining them, but his sour mood warned against alcohol. Instead he turned south towards home.

He walked about three paces before he realized that his bus money and wallet were in his coat. He stood, gloomily, in the street for about 10 seconds before deciding to make the eleven kilometer walk home. He did not need to hear Zeff call him an idiot who couldn't even make a dramatic exit properly. Besides, he always kept his keys in his pocket and the walk was nothing for his legs.

An hour of walking later, the blonde had come up with seven new recipes to try, flirted with 18 women and had gotten attacked by some crazy alley cat. The last had caused him to rip his pant leg, not that he bought them the day before or anything. His only source of solace was that he was almost home.

Shuffling to his left brought him back from his thoughts. Sanji froze, instantly on high alert for distressed women. He heard another sound coming from a shadowed alley across the street. Cautiously, he crossed to approach the source of the noise. If it was a maiden in need of a knight he would valiantly rescue her, but if he got attacked by another cat...

Suddenly there were voices.

“Well, well. Never thought I’d get to meet the famous Roronoa. Mighty fine sword your carrying. How about I take it off your hands?”

Steeling himself for what might be hidden behind the alley wall, Sanji cautiously poked his head out enough to see into the shadows. The first thing he noticed was the semicircle of men that stood facing someone. From where he stood, the blonde counted five, no six of them.

The second thing he noticed was the hair. The stranger in the middle had green hair. Sanji was still marveling at the sight when someone spoke again.

“Didn’t you hear me fucker? I said give us the sword or we’ll take it.” The rest of the group took a few menacing steps forward to emphasize the threat.

 _Sword? It must be that wrapped thing on his back_.

“No.” It was just one syllable and yet, when the swordsman spoke there was such a definite undercurrent of power that even Sanji shivered.

At Roronoa’s refusal, the thugs tensed. Sanji told himself not to get involved, but he’d be lying if he didn't want to fight right now. His legs flexed with anticipation as the blonde made up his mind. Hands in his pockets, a nonchalant expression on his face and a freshly lit cigarette in his mouth, Sanji strolled into the alley as if he couldn’t care less about the obvious brawl about to unfold.

The sharp click of his dress shoes caused all seven men to look towards him in surprise. Taking a deep breath, he blew out a cloud of smoke into the night air.

“Yo,” was all he said.

The guy nearest him regained composure first and turned completely towards the blonde. Sanji counted eight piercings on his face.

“You need something pretty boy?” the guy sneered.

Sure, he looked intimidating, but Sanji could tell by the way he stood that he had no fighting ability whatsoever. In fact, all of them were crap fighters, their “battle stances” unbalanced and full of holes. Even if it came to a fight, it would be too easy to beat these posers. Now the cook understood why the swordsman was so calm, he probably came to the same conclusion as Sanji.

Sighing in disappointment, the blonde decided they weren’t worth the trouble. The swordsman- who, even standing with his arms crossed, had the aura of an experienced fighter- could handle them alone. It wasn’t his business.

“Just passing through.” Sanji moved to walk through the crowd, going backwards would seem cowardly, and was almost through when one man moved towards him. There was a sudden hand on his- WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT GUY JUST TOUCH HIM?!

“Heh, nice ass Blondie.”

Sanji stopped dead. So much for minding his own business. He breathed in deeply and tilted his head towards the sky.

“Mind if I take these guys out?”

The thugs murmured in confusion, but the deep voice, _his_ voice, replied calmly, “Che. Be my guest.”

The thugs, sensing a shift in target, moved to surround Sanji. _Idiots._

The guy nearest him broke the stillness by raising a fist and charging Sanji. The cook raised his own fists and waited for the guy to get close enough. _One more step, there_!

Sanji grinned around his cigarette and, disregarding his fists, kicked his leg up fast and hard right into the guys jaw. There was a crack as the thug was lifted into the air by the force of the kick and a muffled grunt as he hit the alley wall. Sanji stood like that, legs perfectly vertical, body balanced, and inwardly laughed at the stupid expressions around him. Even the seaweed head had a raised eyebrow.

The pierced guy, who had touched him, spit on the ground angrily.

“The fuck? You a frilly ballerina or something?”

Sanji brought his leg down. “Let’s dance jackass.”

The ensuing fight lasted about two minutes. Sanji, fueled by anger and disgust, was a whirling streak of legs and blond hair. He drop kicked the last guy in the chest and watched with satisfaction as he fell to the ground unconscious. The blond moved to the pierced guy slumped against the wall. He groaned when Sanji grabbed his collar.

“I am a cook,” he whispered menacingly, “And you just got served.”

He let go of the thug's collar and watched with satisfaction as the body crumpled to the floor, a hiss of pain escaping his cracked lips.

Sanji finished his smoke in silence, surrounded by the fallen bodies of his attackers. Flicking the spent cigarette to the ground, he turned to face the man that had watched the fight from the side lines.

"Sorry to steal that fight, but I'm in a crappy mood right now."

"I can see that." Hearing the man's voice again, the cook could detect a faint accent, something eastern he guessed.

"How did you manage to get into that situation anyway? Your folks never warned you about dark alleys?"

The man grunted, "I can take care of myself."

Sanji eyed the wrapped sword on his back, wondering why someone would even carry that around. "Whatever Marimo."

The stranger scowled in understanding, though did not reply. _Heh, Japanese then._ With little more to discuss, Sanji was about to leave when he saw the swordsman's eyes widen. The hairs on his neck rose, sensing danger and the blonde cursed himself for leaving the guy conscious.

Too late, he spun on instinct, leg swinging around to defend against the invisible threat. The pierced guy had snuck up on him and was ready for the kick. He grabbed Sanji's ankle and twisted it, effectively sending him off balance. Sanji barely saw the glint of a blade headed for his face as he struggled to get free. His body moved on reflex to avoid it. Using his hands as a shield was _not_ an option, so he used the one foot on the ground to push his body up so that his torso was where his face was a second ago.

Sanji braced himself for the pain but when it came, it was brief and tolerable. A moment later, his leg was released and he stumbled backwards before becoming aware of what happened. The marimo now stood in front of him, arm raised and holding an unsheathed sword at pierced guy's throat. He looked lethal, moonlight glinting off his sword wickedly.

"If you want a battle of blades, fight me."

Sanji gaped. This close to the man, he noticed that the swordsman was almost a head taller than him, and Sanji was _tall_. His arm was heavily muscled and didn't waver in the slightest. Even without seeing his expression, Sanji could feel the power radiating from his body. Judging by the terror in the thugs eyes, he felt it too. Dropping the knife, he booked it out of the alley so fast even Usopp would be impressed. There was a whispered hiss as the sword was placed into its saya and then silence again.

"You OK?" The words were whispered, as if a loud sound might startle Sanji. The cook fought to repress a wave of sudden anger. He was not some helpless girl that needed protecting, the limp bodies in the alley proved that. However, Sanji was nothing if not honorable, and the man did save him from a potentially brutal wound. He decided against kicking the guy's teeth in. For now.

"I'm fine," he said pointedly, his tone conveying his annoyance at the question. "I've had worse."

The Roronoa guy calmly put his sword back in its canvas wrapping, ignoring Sanji's reply all together. The damn moss ball was really starting to piss him off. His mood had worsened significantly since leaving the restaurant and his body craved a release of tension. Sanji felt his pockets. Where were his cigarettes?

Oh, right over there in that puddle. Fan-freaking-tastic.

His last strand of restraint snapped, and he turned to go home before he did something really stupid.

He got about three steps before he heard footsteps following him.

"The hell you doing?" He said, facing the stalker.

"Do you know where 'The Silver Steakhouse' is?" The question caught Sanji off guard, and it took him a moment to reply.

"Yeah, why?"

"I was supposed to meet some friends for dinner, but I just arrived in the city..."

 _Dinner?_ Sanji thought.

"You do know it is nearly 11, right?"

"Nice try curly, it was seven just five minutes ago."

Sanji threw his phone at the guys face. The bastard caught it lazily and checked the time, his smug expression faltering.

"Shit, that witch is going to kill me."

Something about the stranger's story clicked in Sanji's head.

"Oi, shit-head, have you been wandering around all this time?"

"Course not, dartbrow." But as he said it, his eyes left Sanji's and there was a slight twitch to his eyebrow.

"No way, you're lost!" Sanji couldn't help the laughter that escaped him. It was just too funny; the guy must have been twenty and couldn't even find a restaurant, the second most popular restaurant in the city to boot. The cook felt the man's warning glare, but the words escaped him, "Aha, I found a lost kid! Where are your parents? You shouldn't wander alone at night! Haha-"

Out of the corner of his eye, Sanji saw the man move. A second later, the blond had a leg up, blocking the left hook the bastard had thrown at him. Sanji met the furious, and embarrassed, expression with a grin. This guy, though annoying and brutish, was something damn interesting.

Relaxing his guard, he pivoted and walked towards the alley exit once more. After a few paces, he looked over his shoulder at the confused swordsman. A glint of moonlight danced off three gold earrings hanging from his left ear. Despite his earlier resolve, Sanji did something stupid anyway.

"You coming or what?" he asked.

The swordsman's eyes widened in surprise. He hesitated for a second, questioning the blonde’s motives no doubt, before shrugging and following Sanji into the street.

For the first time that night, Sanji felt his mood begin to brighten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bites nails* Well there you have it! Hopefully it wasn't too bad... This is probably going to be a 5+ chapter fic and I am aiming to update every two weeks for those of you who would like to continue reading. Anyway, please share your thoughts!!!


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